


I can Visualize my own Reality

by lielabell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Intervention, Jennifer had a bad boy phase, Relationship Advice, her friends don't want to see her return to it, of the unwanted variety, real talk, well-meaning friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lielabell/pseuds/lielabell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jennifer chases some sort of leaf around her plate, wishing she had gone for the steak, still bloody, the way she would have if Derek was opposite her. But then, if Derek was opposite her, they wouldn't be in a trendy little cafe in heart of recently gentrified Beacon Hills.  They'd be in a Denny's chatting with a waitress who smacked her gum and kept her pen behind her ear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I can Visualize my own Reality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queenitsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenitsy/gifts).



> A million thanks to Queenitsy for not only being the inspiration for this fic, but for being the beta on it too. <3 <3 <3

"What do you mean, he has a hole in his wall?" Michelle, Jennifer's college bestie, asks, her fork paused halfway between her plate and her mouth. "I thought you said he had one of those new lofts downtown."

"He, um, does?" Jennifer chases some sort of leaf around her plate, wishing she had gone for the steak, still bloody, the way she would have if Derek was opposite her. But then, if Derek was opposite her, they wouldn't be in a trendy little cafe in heart of recently gentrified Beacon Hills. They'd be in a Denny's chatting with a waitress who smacked her gum and kept her pen behind her ear.

"And there's a hole in his wall because...?" Michelle asks slowly, setting down her fork and folding her hands in front of her, an expectant look on her face.

Jennifer lifts one shoulder. "He's doing some renovations," she says, and it's not quite a lie. Derek is doing renovations. He sort of has to, after the whole flooding the loft disaster.

"Right." Michelle's mouth quirks. "And he does what again?"

"He, uh," Jennifer's brain stalls because _lives off his family's trust_ isn't the answer she wants to give to Michelle there-is-no-glass-ceiling Thompson. Jennifer laughs awkwardly. "He sorta runs an outreach project for disadvantaged youth? I mean, not really. Not for profit or anything. He just, helps some kids out. Teenagers, actually. A bunch of them are students of mine. But for work, well.”

Jennifer fiddles with her fork a bit, knowing that the next part isn’t going to go over well. “He's independently wealthy and has a fairly diverse portfolio and, I don't know, you know I was never really up on the whole market thing. But he's an investor in something or other and he funds grants or something and gets returns on his investment in the form of stock ownership. Really, Michelle, I don't like asking him about his financial situation. It's just, it seems tacky. I wouldn't want him asking me about mine. And, besides, it's not what he spends most of his time on."

Michelle takes a sip of her wine. "Alright, fair point. But knowing what he does for a living isn't the same as asking what his net worth is, and you know it." 

Jennifer winces at Michelle's there-there-now-sweetie voice. The one she gives when she's trying her hardest not to call someone on their shit. Which, alright, so maybe Jennifer does need to be called on her shit a bit because _outreach program for disadvantaged youth_? Yeah. Sure. Okay. But really, she doesn't want to have a come to Jesus conversation with Michelle in the middle of Beacon Hill's version of Chez Panisse. 

"He's a good guy," she says faintly, fighting not to cross her arms over her chest. "Funny, in a so dry it's dusty sort of way. And smart too. He went to Colombia. And has a degree in architecture which he plans to put to good use on said hole in the wall, once his life mellows out a bit.” 

“Mellows out a bit?” Michelle arches an eyebrow as she set down her glass of wine, pinning Jennifer with a please-continue look.

She bites her lip because, damn it, they’ve reached the sticky part of Derek’s personal life. Jennifer takes a long drink of her water to stall, trying to think of anything other than _he’s a werewolf, it’s complicated_ to say in response. “So, that’s youth outreach program? The really, really informal one? Some of his kids are, well, one of them recently died. He wasn’t even one of the really troubled ones, though he had run away for a few months over the summer, but he was back and doing good and it seemed like he had put the past behind him. But,” Jennifer’s throat clogs as she remembers that night, what happened to Boyd, how hollowed out it had made Derek, and how the rest of the pack had been struggling since then. 

“Oh sweeite,” Michelle’s voice is gentle now, all skepticism erased in the face of Jennifer’s obvious upset. “You always did want to save the world, no wonder you were drawn to this man, if he’s trying to do the same.”

The words should be supportive, but there’s something about the way _this man_ rolled off of Michelle’s tongue made Jennifer bristle. 

"Derek's not," Jennifer shakes her head. "Look, Chel, I know what you are thinking. I do. And I can see your point. But Derek... We get each other, alright? He doesn't question my quirks and I don't question his. And, sure, we have some disagreements, what couple doesn't, but it's not, nothing's been deal breaker level yet. Just, you know, do we really need to have his band of padawans over every Saturday night sort of fights. The kind you have because you are feeling each other out."

"Uh huh," Michelle takes off her glasses, rests them on the table, and gives Jennifer a pointed look. "Jenny," she says, her voice doing that disappointed friend thing that makes Jennifer's skin want to shrivel up, "Sweetie, you know I love you. You know I do. And I will support you no matter what, but I really just want to you think rationally about this."

Jennifer's hand clenches in her napkin. "Think rationally?" she repeats, not liking at all where this is going.

"Yes." Michelle taps the table with fingernail painted a demur pearlized pink. "Derek's lovely to look at and I'm sure you have plenty of fun together, but you're in your thirties now. Haven't we progressed past the broody, sexy bad boy type yet? Do I need to remind you of Tanner? Because--"

"No." Jennifer's voice is too loud for the location, but she doesn't care. "No." She shakes her head. "Derek is not Tanner. I am not that person anymore, Michelle. You know I'm not. I've worked hard to get out of that headspace. And, yes, okay, Derek is totally my type. He's stoic and broody and has shoulders that just beg me to bite them, but that's not all he is. He's intelligent. I know I hedged a bit about his lack of a job, but Derek is not a pauper. He's extremely well off.”

Michelle opens her mouth to protest, but Jennifer doesn’t let her. “Yes, he has a hole in the wall of his loft, but he owns that loft outright. Bought it for cash, Chel. Cash. For a gigantic open, airy loft in a fashionable part of town. Don't tell me you could do that, because I know that you can't. And, yeah, he's a little rough around the edges, but he's had a hard life. Much harder than you or I, and he's not, it hasn't... Well, it's marked him.”

She narrows her eyes at Michelle, daring her to challenge her, but Michelle just sits there, mouth pressed into a tight line. 

“And he's not just some sexy young thing for me to play around with,” Jennifer continues. “He's a person. A really wonderful person. Who doesn't give a shit that I'm socially awkward and have a low paying job that means I can barely afford to live in a middle class neighborhood and will probably never progress up the ranks because I care more about actually teaching my students than I do about the back end politics. So just stop already with the silently judging me face you've got going on. I like Derek. I like him a lot. To the point where I think I could love him someday.”

She stutters to a stop, her mouth falling open as her brain catches up to what she’s said. “Oh god. I think I could love him.” Jennifer takes a deep breath, her right hand coming up to rest on her chest. “That’s not something I say lightly, you know that, Chel.”

Michelle’s face softens and she reaches across the table to take Jennifer’s left hand in her own. She doesn’t say anything, just squeezes it and just like that Jennifer’s anger melts away. 

“And I'd really like it if you would come to my place for dinner sometime and met him, but I won't invite you if you're just going to poke and prod at him and make him uncomfortable."

“You know I just want what’s best for you,” Michelle says, rubbing her thumb across the back of Jennifer’s hand. “That’s all I ever wanted. And if you think he could be the one, well. I’m not going to nay-say it.”

Jennifer’s eyes sting a bit at that and she stares down at her plate of roughage. “He’s not perfect, but I don’t think I could be with him if he was. He’s been battered by life, same as I have, but he’s put himself back together. Like one of those Japanese pots, what are they called? The ones mended with gold lacquer?”

“Kintsugi,” Michelle supplies, because that’s the sort of thing she always knows-- the proper name for things most people don’t even know existed.

“Kintsugi,” Jennifer repeats. “Broken, but made better for it.”

“Just like you,” Michelle says softly.

 _Yeah, just like me_ , Jennifer thinks, but doesn’t say.

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this fic came out of a conversation with Queenitsy about how Derek wouldn't attract a put-together sort of person. In fact, I wrote this:
> 
> _I really, really dislike the Stiles and Jennifer comparisons. Do I wish that maybe Jeff Davis and crew had been a little more inventive with her introduction and story line? Yeah. But it's not the end of the world. Sure, she's snide and quirky and a little bit of an odd duck who has some self confidence issues, but someone who is SUPER put together wouldn't have anything to do with Derek. I mean, come on. Derek is hot like fire, but I wouldn't touch him. I would be all "bb, you need a lot more than looks to be with me" and maybe I'm just not like other girls (which I doubt) but I think that any person with a lot going for them is going to be disinclined to fall in with a man who lives like a hobo and is constantly in danger and has a creepy amount of teen-aged friends hanging about. Especially someone who works with teenagers on a daily basis._
> 
> _Derek's not going to pull a super confident, high-power business woman like Lydia will grow up to be. Or an innovative, young software developer like Danny will end up being. Or a sassy, street-smart crime scene investigator like Stiles. He's going to get the bottom of the barrel girl who doesn't have much going for her and is just as socially awkward as he is and together they will bumble their way towards happiness in a way that makes their more socially savvy friends cringe._
> 
> right before I started writing the first line of what eventually turned into this fic.


End file.
